


Poems

by urisarang



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Chocolate Box Exchange, First Kiss, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Idiots in Love, M/M, Oblivious Sokka (Avatar), Oblivious Zuko (Avatar), a dash of misunderstandings, a hint of angst, soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-13 18:06:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29405961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/urisarang/pseuds/urisarang
Summary: Sokka could spend all day and all night writing about Zuko’s golden eyes, the color of first summer’s light.  He could sing songs about all the colors of his fire, as varied and beautiful as the feelings in his heart.But he could never confess his feelings, Zuko needed him as his best friend—and nothing more.  Sokka knew that, but try as he might he couldn't let his feelings go and his book of poems—all about Zuko grew daily.How unfortunate it would be if someone, perhaps a matchmaking servant, left said book out for the Fire Lord to find.
Relationships: Sokka/Zuko (Avatar)
Comments: 15
Kudos: 155
Collections: Chocolate Box - Round 6





	Poems

**Author's Note:**

  * For [revior](https://archiveofourown.org/users/revior/gifts).



> :) I hope you like this short and sweet Zukka treat~

Sokka has a problem—

Well, he has lots of problems, to be honest, but one really big one. One that made his day to day life an absolute nightmare. That problem has a name. And what was that name?

Zuko.

The freaking Fire Lord, sole ruler of the Fire Nation himself. What was Sokka’s problem with him you ask? Was it the fact that his father had tried his best to burn the world to ashes, or that _his_ sister tried to fry _Sokka’s_ sister?

No. No, it was not. 

It was much more serious than that. Zuko isn’t anything like his family. He is good, kind, and so caring. He would go out of his way to help someone in need, even the same people who had once spit on him. He is just one of those guys. Super cool guy right?

Well, he was also super hot. Both literally and figuratively. His body literally steams when he does his fire katas—which he likes to do shirtless every morning. 

And how did Sokka know this?

Because clearly, he is a masochist and likes to suffer because he would wake up early _just_ to catch a glimpse of him. Even during the war, Sokka didn’t wake up early for anything less than the invasion and the day of the comet. Full stop. That was it.

It is now a year after the war ended—before they, Team Avatar, put an end to it—and he’s the Southern Water Tribe’s ambassador. The same ambassador that now wakes up early every day to watch the Fire Lord, and his good friend Zuko, work out. It’s not like he watches Zuko work out for a good reason like learning techniques or anything like that. No sirree.

He watches for the express purpose of ogling his dear friend’s ripped chest and abs. He’s not the only person who likes to do this, the good looking Fire Lord is quite popular with the younger ladies and even some of the men who work in and around the palace. That should make Sokka feel better, but it is actually worse because they all _know_ why he’s there with them every morning. 

It is the same reason they are after all. A chance to bask in the glory that is Zuko glistening in the morning light as he works out, nothing more, nothing less. At least that’s what they think. The truth of it is far worse.

Sokka actually likes him. More than likes him—he’s falling further and further in love with him as each day goes by. It isn’t puppy love, or a simple crush. What he feels for Zuko? It is as real and as true as his love for Yue so long ago. 

But Zuko didn’t know. 

Couldn’t know the feelings that live inside of Sokka’s heart for him. He had just gone through a bad, awful, no good at all break up with Mai. As Zuko’s best friend Sokka was there for him through all of it. He was the shoulder Zuko cried on, the first person he told, and the one he trusted most.

Sokka couldn’t turn around and betray that trust. Couldn’t break the solemn code of honor between men. It wouldn’t be right for him to confess his feelings now, especially when he knows how vulnerable Zuko is. It just wouldn’t be right.

So instead he is forced to hold his feelings inside as they slowly wear him down from within. Oh, woe is he who is forced to see and touch something he can never hold. To live with his greatest desire just out of reach.

At least his poems have gotten better since he started pining after his best friend. At least that is what the teacher said whenever he had time to stop by and write poem after poem about the one and only subject that seemed to matter to him anymore.

Zuko.

He could spend all day and all night writing about Zuko’s golden eyes, the color of first summer’s light. He could sing songs about all the colors of his fire, as varied and beautiful as the feelings in his heart. 

Could stare all day at the hairs that fall from Zuko’s top knot no matter how hard his servants work to keep them in place. Fingers twitching at his sides with the urge—no, the visceral need to brush them back while warring with the equally powerful desire to leave it. The loose strands of hair making his expression so much softer.

Helps to remind people that their Fire Lord is more than just his title—he’s a scarred teenager just trying his best. Human, just like the rest of them. Seeing his robes askew, his hair slipping from the knot, and dirt on his pants—so very different from all the Fire Lords who had come before him.

So very different from his father, and his sister. Softer, and far kinder than the rest of his kin. A Fire Lord worth following.

Or maybe it’s just Sokka who thinks that way. Not that he’s asked anyone else’s opinions, but he can’t help but write them out. 

Letter after letter until it is a whole journal dedicated to all the things he loves about Zuko. It is a testament, a monument to his stupidity that he keeps each and everything he writes about Zuko. He knows he should burn the letters he’ll never send, pour ink on drawings that could never hope to do Zuko justice.

But he doesn’t have the heart. Each word was ripped straight from his heart. Every stroke of the brush filled with love. He could no more throw those out than he could his love for Zuko. 

Too bad his life is one big joke after another.

Which is of course, why he would find Zuko sitting in the middle of his room, ponytail loose with an all too familiar book open in his lap. Sokka must make a sound when he walks in on the scene but Zuko doesn’t lift his head. Doesn’t notice he’s been caught red handed.

Sokka considers jumping out the window and becoming a wandering hermit. It wouldn’t be a bad life, a lot less stress than being an ambassador that’s for sure. He could travel from town to town offering his skills as an idea man. Things always need fixing or finding a better way of getting done. It wouldn’t be so bad. He’s good at it. 

Yeah, it would be a little lonely but surely it would be better than having to face his best friend after he finds out he’s in love with him. 

Right?

He takes one silent step back and then another. Fully intending on following through with his last second career change but a sound stops him dead in his tracks.

He can’t have heard that right. There’s just no way. Sokka doesn’t dare move a muscle or even breathe as he listens for it again. Hoping against hope he had heard wrong. But it happens again.

A sniffle.

Zuko reaches up brushing at his cheeks with the sleeve of his robe and that’s when Sokka sees his face. Sees the tears that still fall from Zuko’s eyes—eyes that grow wide in surprise when they see Sokka. He scrubs at his face harder, as if mad at his display of weakness.

“Did you mean it?” Zuko asks, his voice raw and vulnerable. 

Sokka is confused, so damn confused. Why is Zuko crying? Why would he cry from reading Sokka’s poetry—even he knows it’s not _that_ bad. 

“Mean what?” He asks stupidly. The wrong question and he knows it when a hint of anger flares to life in Zuko’s eyes. 

“What you wrote!” He shouts gesturing at the book angrily with his hand. 

Sokka looks down and sees one of the first poems he had written about the beauty of Zuko’s fire and how it must be a reflection of his inner fire—his soul. How its purity and beauty would be legendary. He had gone on to wax poetic about how it could not have been the dragons who had given Zuko the rainbow fire for which his fame grows daily of—but that the dragons were merely the ones to open the door so that Zuko’s true heart, his true inner fire could be seen by the world.

“Or is this some awful prank—some cruel joke?” Sokka had taken too long to answer and now Zuko was jumping to conclusions. Sokka waves his hands in front of him wildly in denial.

“No of course it’s not a joke! Why would I joke about something like that? About how I feel for you?” Sokka would like very much for Toph to show up out of nowhere and bury him beneath the ground but sadly he’s not that lucky. 

Figures.

“What you feel for me?” Zuko’s face twists up in confusion. Oh right, he’s got the emotional range of a particularly dense rock thanks to his father of the year and nightmare of a sister. Of course, he would find a book full of _love_ poems and his first thought would be it was a prank. Something cruel to hurt him where he’s weakest—in his stupidly oversized heart.

Sokka scrubs both his hands over his face. He’s really just going to have to come out and say it isn’t he? If he couldn’t figure out Sokka’s feelings after reading _that_ nothing less than a full confession will do.

He takes a tentative step forward and sits down in front of Zuko. Golden eyes watch him warily, as if afraid of what Sokka might do. Zuko hasn’t looked at him like that since before the war. Not since boiling rock where they had to learn to rely on one another fully.

Not since they became friends. It hurts to see how quickly his self-esteem and self-worth issues would have him doubting their friendship so easily.

Sokka reaches out but instead of grabbing the book, he grabs Zuko’s hands within his own. Zuko gasps in a breath of air too fast. They touch all the time, but never like this. Sokka has been careful to keep his touches as they should be between friends. 

An arm over the shoulder was something two men could do. Playful rough touches were a stable of male bonding in the south pole. A gentle touch like this? Unheard of.

Sokka moves Zuko’s hands together, cupping them within his own—Zuko doesn’t resist. His eyes are fixated on their hands, and his once angry expression goes soft. Hopeful. 

As fragile as glass. 

It hurts to see how much this little touch, this simple kindness affects him. It makes Sokka want to pay a visit to Ozai but Zuko banned him after the last time. He’ll just have to wait until the next time Toph visits—there is no stopping her and she hates what Ozai has done to Zuko just as much as Sokka does.

“Hey,” Sokka starts, his voice soft. Zuko looks up at him, confusion all over his face. Sokka offers him a smile and gently squeezes the hands within his own. Needing to see the look of surprised joy on Zuko’s face one time, maybe one last time before he utters the words that could destroy their friendship forever.

“I— I love you,” he blurts out before his courage fails him. He squeezes his eyes shut as he says it, wanting to hold on to the image of Zuko’s soft smile a little longer before he has to face reality. 

Silence.

Even more silence. 

Fear bubbles up inside his chest, twisting his stomach and turning his breakfast to rocks in his gut. He’s afraid to open his eyes. Afraid of what he might see in Zuko’s now that he knows the truth his supposed best friend had been hiding. 

Zuko pulls his hands out from Sokka’s and his heart plummets. What did he expect? That Zuko would confess his love and pull him into a passionate kiss and that they would live happily ever after?

Because that is exactly what happens. 

Warm hands touch his face, Sokka’s eyes opening in surprise. The look in Zuko’s eyes? The same look whenever Sokka would look into the pond after thinking about Zuko? 

It can’t be real. He can’t—

“I—,” Zuko stops, his words catching in his throat. He swallows brushing a thumb along Sokka’s cheek. “You too. I—you— I love you too.” He fumbles the words hopelessly but Sokka loves him all the more for it. For being who he is.

He’s not sure who leans forward first, or if they both do but between one blink and the next, their lips are touching.

Zuko’s lips are chapped, and Sokka’s are wet from worrying them between his teeth. It’s rough and they smoosh their faces together way too hard.

It’s perfect.

And so is the next kiss once they stop laughing at themselves and in joy.

And every kiss after that is just as perfect—because it’s with someone he loves.


End file.
